


In Every Cup, a Voyage

by daymarket



Series: Firesverse [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Acceptance, Family, Gen, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daymarket/pseuds/daymarket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These days, it falls to Zuko to do the visiting. He tries hard to not think of the day when he won't have to visit at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Every Cup, a Voyage

**Author's Note:**

> Nominally part of the Firesverse (in which Mai and Zuko's daughter, Ursa, is a nonbender), but this effectively is a standalone.
> 
> Russian translation done by the awesome Fuji can be found [here](http://ficbook.net/readfic/2170071)!

Tea has been around for…well, forever, really, but Zuko knows full well that had it not been for Uncle, he would have never developed a taste for it. Uncle, back in the first couple years of the Jasmine Dragon, went through a spree of exploration when it came to exotic teas, some of which he brings back to the Fire Nation palace whenever he visits. With Uncle’s advancing age, those visits have markedly decreased in number.

These days, it falls to Zuko to do the visiting, and he tries hard to not think of the day when he won’t have to visit at all.

Today, Uncle is sitting up in bed when Zuko enters, and Zuko feels a bit of a weight lift off his chest. It’s a good day, then. Uncle smiles up at Zuko as Zuko places the tray of tea down on the bedside table, and Zuko helps him sit up. He makes sure that the pillows are stacked comfortably behind Uncle before carefully placing a teacup in his hands and pouring the tea for him. It’s some strange orange-lemon mix this time; not to Zuko’s taste at all, but Uncle has insisted that they try it. It’s sweet and sour at the same time, and Zuko winces a little after he sips from his own cup. “Huh.”

“Anjou brought this back for me from Republic City,” Uncle says, naming his successor in the management of the Jasmine Dragon. His voice is cracked with the years but no less warm. “An interesting contrast, to be sure, but that seems to be the very definition of Republic City itself.” He sips at it and stifles a cough.

Zuko sits up and frowns a little, but he subsides when no further coughs follow. He squirms in his chair, feeling moderately disconcerted, and it takes him a moment to pick up the thread of conversation again. “I haven’t been there in ages,” he says finally, referring to Republic City. “It’s doing well enough from what I hear. Ursa’s there at the embassy.” A thought occurs to him, and he looks at Uncle hopefully. “She’s coming back soon,” he says. “She’ll be coming to join us here, and then we’re all going back to the Fire Nation.” He pauses.

Uncle smiles at him knowingly. “I have made my life here,” he says in response to the unspoken question. “No doubt my ashes will be transported to the royal tombs, but for now, this tree is content to stay where it has roots.”

Zuko sighs. "We could care for you far better than here in the Jasmine Dragon,” he says, a half-hearted attempt. It’s an old argument, but he has to try, at least.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Uncle assures him. “I assure you that I am receiving the finest of care from the waterbenders here. Ba Sing Se Hospital is exemplary in its medical care.”

It’s not the real reason, and they both know it. Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose irritably. “We have waterbenders back at the palace too, you know,” he grumbles. “Two masters at least. And as part of the cultural exchange, Katara sends us a bunch of trainees every year from the South Pole. They must be good for _something_.”

“Ah!” Uncle says. “And how is the lovely Katara?” he asks, and Zuko rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Indulge these aching bones, nephew! I’m far too old to go to the South Pole to greet her in person these days.”

“She’s fine,” Zuko says, a touch testily. “We write sometimes. Her school is well-established these days, and she’s getting a good number of students from the North Pole, even. The South Pole is prominent once more, and a good part of that is thanks to her.”

“And Aang?”

“He’s fine too,” Zuko says with a sigh. “He’s settled in the South Pole these days, although he tries to make a pilgrimage to the various Air Temples at least once a year. Appa can’t fly the way he used to, though, so the trips take a bit longer. As far as I know, he refuses to travel on another sky bison even though it would be more convenient.”

“Mmm,” Uncle hums. “Appa and I share some old bones, it seems. At any rate, it’s good that the Air Nomad culture is restored, even if it’s in a different form for this modern age.”

“The balance of the elements is restored,” Zuko says with a nod. It’s an old mantra and hardly anything mind-shattering in revelation, but Uncle smiles up at him, pleased. Zuko shrugs and looks away, feeling embarrassed.

In response, Uncle uncurls one hand from around his teacup and places it gently on Zuko’s. There are still hints of old calluses in his touch, but it’s worn down by time now, just like the rest of him. “So. How are you, Fire Lord Zuko?” he asks.

Zuko shrugs again. “You know that I’m running the Fire Nation,” he says. “It’s about the same as it’s been for years. I mean, we had the drought last year, but the new water purification plants helped us get through that. We probably still owe the Water Tribes a huge favor for their help over that. Food prices are stabilizing again, although wheat is still a little too high for my liking. No major rebellions this year or the last, although there were slightly more pirates than usual along the coasts. We managed to—”

“Zuko,” Uncle interrupts, and Zuko looks back at him with a frown. “I was asking about _you_. I have faith that the Fire Nation will flourish under your hand, but I worry sometimes that you don’t take care of yourself.”

“Uh.” Zuko stops, feeling flustered. “I’m…fine,” he says finally, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Mai drags me to bed if I’m up for too long. Not that way,” he adds hastily, feeling heat rise in his face. “Just…you know. And there’s a good working system for how to process and respond to reports from the various islands so we can get responses out in time. That helps.” He stops. “And Ursa will be back soon, so she can take over the Outer Islands once she’s settled.” He trails off into silence. “So I guess we’re good. All of us.”

“Then I couldn’t ask for anything more,” Uncle says softly.

There’s a strange note to his voice. Zuko looks at him sharply, trying to dissect his expression for any hidden meaning. His searching eyes find only serenity on Uncle’s face. “Relax, nephew,” Uncle says. “You carry far too many worries.”

“I’m not worried,” Zuko says defensively. “I’m just thinking.”

“Thinking is good,” Uncle says, gravely enough that Zuko suspects that it tips just slightly over into sarcasm. “Of course, we mustn’t strain ourselves with it. I’ve found that there is nothing quite as relaxing as not thinking over a cup of tea.”

Zuko sighs and picks up the teacup again. He sips again and grimaces at the strange sweet-and-sour taste. “That’ll have to wait until I retire,” he says dryly. “You know, I’ve been considering opening up my own teashop.”

“Truly, I have taught you well,” Uncle says, placing a hand over his heart. Zuko rolls his eyes, but he rapidly snaps to attention when Uncle begins to cough: long, dry coughs that seem to threaten to pull his lungs from his chest. Zuko heats his hands and rubs Uncle’s back, feeling all the more useless. He’s no healer, and he’s definitely not a waterbender. And even if he was, this is something that no waterbender can ever cure.

The cup spills from Uncle’s shaking hands, the liquid flowing across the blanket. This, at least, Zuko can fix—he shoots a controlled jet of flame at it, and it steams instantly, leaving behind a strange acidic smell in its wake. Zuko returns to rubbing Uncle’s back in slow, concentric circles, hating the sound of each harsh cough.

After what seems like far too long, Uncle’s coughs eventually taper off. Zuko settles Uncle back against the pillows, almost expecting to see blood flecks surrounding Uncle’s mouth. He breathes an inner sigh of relief when he sees none there, but the lines of exhaustion on Uncle’s face are hardly a good sign, either. As Uncle sinks into the pillows with a weary sigh, Zuko forgoes the tea in favor in plain water instead. He pours it into a fresh cup for Uncle and lifts it carefully up to his mouth for him to drink.

Uncle sips at it before slumping back against the pillows with his eyes shut. His breathing is ragged and hard. Zuko sets down the cup at the side table and stares down at the blanket, tracing the green embroidery with a scowl that he can’t hide. “This is ridiculous,” he says abruptly. “You can’t stay here. You need to come back to the Fire Nation.”

He doesn’t say the rest, but the words hang tensely in the air: come back to us. Don’t go. _Not_ _yet_.

It seems like an eternity before Uncle opens his eyes and gives Zuko a tired smile. “I’m afraid that there might not be enough time, even if I wanted to,” he says softly, and Zuko clenches his fists. “But I am glad that I could see you again, one last time.”

“Don’t say that,” Zuko snaps.

“I’m very old,” Uncle says quietly. There’s no rebuke in his voice, just simple fact. “I’m ready to move on, Zuko.”

“What if _I’m_ not ready for you to move on?” Zuko says, and instantly he feels red creep up on his face. He’s not a child anymore, too naïve to understand, nor is he an adolescent, too angry to listen. He’s an adult, and he’s supposed to be beyond this kind of petulance. Abashed, he lowers his head, fiddling with the blanket. “I just—there’s so much left to do, Uncle,” he says. He tries for reasonable, but he doesn’t think that he quite makes it.

“And you have done better than I ever could have,” Uncle says. His hand reaches out and squeezes Zuko’s, and it’s despairing to feel just how weak his grip has become. “You have moved the Fire Nation past generations of war and restored our honor; you have made us something to be proud of. And I in turn am so very proud of _you_.”

He coughs again briefly, and Zuko can feel the spasms of his body through their joined hands. He tightens his grip on Uncle as if he can hold him to life. “I don’t know if I can…” he begins, and then he stops.

Yes, you can, a quiet voice in the back of his mind says. You have, you can, and you will. And here, in the place, you know what you should do.

He looks up into those eyes, lined with the years but no less caring. Here is General Iroh, Dragon of the West and Grand Master of the White Lotus. Beyond the titles, he’s Zuko’s uncle and more of a father to him than Ozai ever was. Uncle was raised in the old era, and he ascended past that to become a mentor of the new. He’s finished his work here more than ten times over.

Slowly, Zuko bows his head in acceptance.

When he looks up again, Uncle’s smiling at him, soft and gentle. It’s a struggle to smile back, but he tries anyway for Uncle’s sake. He doesn’t really succeed, but he thinks that Uncle understands. Uncle’s always been there for him when he falls short.

With a sigh, Uncle relaxes slowly against the pillows, his eyes fluttering shut again. Zuko pulls the blankets over him, making sure that he’s warm and comfortable. There’s sunlight streaming through the windows, bringing with it both fresh air and birdsong. It’s a beautiful day.

If he’s crying, he does his best to keep himself quiet. Uncle needs his rest.


End file.
